


Filthy Boy

by killer_kings



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom!Frank - Freeform, M/M, Name Calling, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Smut, bottom!Gerard, slut!gee is good tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:12:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6167005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killer_kings/pseuds/killer_kings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank didn't even want to go to the party, but Pete had a way of making people do things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Filthy Boy

**Author's Note:**

> yikes this is Not Very Good im so exhausted gnight

slut!gee

Frank didn’t know why he’d allowed himself to be dragged out to this party in the first place. He’d been perfectly content with staying in his room all summer, masturbating and eating all day, but. Fine. 

But that was Pete for you. Frank’s best friend just so happened to be a huge fucking social butterfly, going out almost nightly, getting wasted as fuck, crashing at around 3am and then repeating it the next day after school. He had a lot of beer and sex, that guy.

But hey. Frank wasn't judging him. He could be a party animal if he wanted to. Maybe that wasn't the life for himself, but nothing was stopping Pete. Frank just wondered why the guy seemed to want to hang out so much. Like, he wasn't uncool exactly, but he wasn't really of the social status that all Pete’s buddies were.

As for his sex life, well, it was pretty minimal. If Frank were to write a story about it he’d title it “My Hand & Me” which was a totally inappropriate play on Marley & Me.

But he let himself be dragged out (occasionally) by Pete and despite the out-of-place feeling he got with most of the parties, he enjoyed the free weed, because being as close as he was with Pete was something admirable, although Frank didn't really see it. Something about that girl or guy he’d fucked last week.

Pete called him mid afternoon, mid July, mid summer vacation. The hot sun was making the air waver above the pavement, burning hot to all the bare feet. Everyone flocked to the mall, the heat unbearable enough to make even going to the local pool a thing. 

“What do you think of this one?” Pete asked as soon as Frank picked up. “I know it seems hot right now, babe, but you haven't even seen me shirtless yet.”

Frank sighed. Pete had this awful habit of trying out horrible pick up lines on him, of all people. As if he knew two shits about dating people.

“Try: it’s so hot there are two hobbits throwing rings into my backyard.”

Pete sighed. “I'm not trying to act like a fucking geek, Frank. I’m trying to pick up chicks.”

“I thought you liked dick?” Sometimes, Pete’s sexuality was as fluid as the sweat running down Frank’s neck, but Pete didn't like to be labelled. Something about nonconformity.

“Nah, dude, pussy’s where it’s at.”

“You fucked Gabe just last week.”

“He turned me off dick. It’s his fault.”

Frank chuckled. “So is that all you called me for? To tell me a horrible pick up line and that you like pussy?”

“You make me sound so shallow, Frank.”

“You are shallow.”

“Anyways. There's a party tonight.”

“No.” 

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Frank groaned. “But the last time I went out, a guy puked on me!”

“That was two months ago! Surely you aren't that traumatised still.”

Frank stayed resolutely silent.

“Look, I know the host, and there's a pretty good chance you’re getting laid tonight.”

“I don't do one night stands.”

“Well neither does he, so that’s perfect.”

“Pete, I’m not-”

“Yes you the fuck are,” Pete cut him off. “Practice your bedroom eyes. I’ll be over at 8.”

“Wha--I--Pete!” But the line was dead.

Frank groaned at his stubborn friend and threw his phone down, because now he had to go, because if he didn't he was a walking shame to everyone.

Checking the time, he saw that it was nearly 7. He walked downstairs and told his mom he was going out.

“What time?”

“Pete said he’ll be here at 8.”

His mom loved Pete, borderline obsessively. She acted as though he was a direct gift from God, constantly taking her burden of a teenage son away from her.

“Have fun then, you two!”

Frank made himself a sandwich for dinner, then rushed upstairs to get ready, because Pete was really uptight about what he wore for some reason. It was as if he was actually living through Frank and it was creepy as hell and weird.

He pulled his black skinny jeans and a black t-shirt with an unrecognisable logo on it. Then he wandered into the bathroom and styled his hair like he normally did, because that was his thing.

He hesitated on the eyeliner. Pete reckoned it was coming back, that eyeliner was slowly spreading its way across the states again. Said that everyone wore it back in Chicago. 

Frank reckoned his head was stuck in 2009.

Even so, Franka could admit to the self-esteem boost that it gave him. It made his eyes look bigger, made the hazel irises pop. He drew a little on, before smudging it against his bottom lash line.

Looking into the mirror, he decided to give those bedroom eyes a go. He let his lids drift down a little, giving him that sultry, half-lidded glare he saw on the girls in the magazines. He tilted his head back, so that he was looking through slitted eyes and bit his lip.

Then he broke and laughed, wondering vaguely what the hell was wrong with himself.

When he was content with his appearance, it was nearly 8. He sat on his bed and twiddled his thumbs, hoping that the guy that he was supposed to be getting laid by had condoms, because he didn’t.

Pete’s horn cut through the silence of his thoughts. He grabbed his phone and raced down the stairs, and after a hurried goodbye to his mother, he was gone.

It had cooled down some, with the sun gone, but the air was still warm. Pete opened the door, also in his black skinny jeans despite the temperature.

“You know, every time I hang up like that, I’m scared you actually won't come.”

“And every time, I consider that for longer and longer,” Frank replied, grinning at his friend despite.

Pete punched his shoulder after smiling back, and pulled off the curb.

“How far is it?” Frank asked.

“Five minutes.”

Frank nodded and stared out the window at the street signs flashing plast. He hoped the people didn’t go to his school, because all the people there were pretentious assholes. He hoped they were from the public school instead.

When they pulled up, they saw cars lined up and down the street, and could hear the music pulsing through the closed windows. Pete shut his eyes and breathed deeply, as if he were smelling the party. “God, Mikey throws a good party,” He muttered almost reverently.

“Okay, dude, don't jizz your pants,” Frank mumbled,

Pete pulled the car over and killed the radio.  
“Okay,” He said, turning around to face Frank. “When we get in there, I’ll introduce you to Mikey, the host. His brother is the one you’re banging tonight.”

“No one night stands!”

“...And hopefully many nights after!”

Frank nodded, appeased. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Pete climbed out of the car, followed by Frank, and they both walked up to the front door.

The air was hot inside the house, filled with the scent of body odour and beer and cheap perfume. Frank wrinkled his nose as he was jostled around by the people around him dancing to the tune of--was that the Misfits? Frank suddenly had a whole lot more respect for Mikey.

That was just the front hallway, and it was a pretty sizeable house. Frank immediately felt intimidated, because compared to his tiny place, this house was massive. These guys were loaded.

Pete, however, was not stopping to take in the place, instead scanning the crowd with an eagle-like gaze as he searched out his...next victim? Frank didn't know the protocol for these kinds of things. But Pete was an expert at weaving through large crowds of horny, dancing teenagers drenched in sweat and makeup apparently, and they made it to the kitchen with no casualties. 

Pete immediately brightened and walked over to a long, skinny dude with glasses perched on the edge of his nose who was leaning on the bench looking bored.

“Mikey! ‘Sup, dude?”

Mikey, whose brother Frank was supposed to bang, shrugged, smiling at Pete. “Just partyin’.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “You’re not partying, you’re hiding out in the kitchen.”

“Drinking,” Mikey added, taking a sip. Frank hovered nervously, unsure if it was out of line to introduce himself or anything. Luckily, Pete saved him.

“Oh yeah, this is my friend, Frank.”

Mikey raised an eyebrow at him. “Pete never shuts up about your apparent lack of a social life.”

Frank glared at Pete, who stood next to him wearing a deceptively innocent face.

“It's alright, my brother and I are basically the same. But when we party, it's go hard or go home.”

Frank smiled. “I take it this is your party?”

“Yup. Last time Gee had a party he invited strippers so our parents took his credit card away.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “Your parents are cool with this?”

Mikey nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “Well, we have quite a reputation at our school, you see. Everyone expects parties. Our parents conveniently leave us at home every weekend on the promise that the house is clean by Sunday afternoons.”

“How on earth do you get that done?” Frank asked in wonderment.

“Everyone chips in. You stay the night, you clean up. Those are the rules.”

“Fuck rules, Mikey. This ain't the schoolyard.”

Frank spun around at the new voice, and was met with probably the most attractive face he’d ever seen.

Long black hair hung in strands past his face, his hazel eyes accentuated by eyelashes so long he had to be wearing mascara, which Frank hadn't really thought was hot before that party. His tight black jeans covered his perfectly shaped legs--and holy shit, was that lace on the side of them? Frank tried to subtly ascertain this, tilting his head to the side slightly, and yeah, there was definitely a strip of lace running down the outside of both his legs, exposing the pale of his skin, which was just infinitely hot.

The stranger stepped forward. “I’m Gerard, Mikey’s brother. I’m assuming you’re Frank, because you look super uncomfortable. It's endearing.”

Frank was unsure whether he was being sarcastic or not, but he shook his hand anyway. He tried not to notice the way Gerard’s gaze swept over him, lingering in places no one’s gaze had often lingered before, namely his crotch and lips. Gerard totally had that bedroom eyes thing going on, Frank noted, much better than his own. He blushed, meeting his half-lidded eyes with a small smile. If this was who Pete wanted him to get laid by, he was fine with that.

“Have a drink, Frank,” Pete cut in, handing Frank a cup. Frank tore his eyes away from Gerard’s and took a sip, grimacing.

“The fuck is in this?”

“Bob’s being the stand-in mixologist tonight,” Mikey explained. “He has no clue what he’s doing.”

“I saw him in there with a pineapple a few minutes ago,” Gerard added, moving up to stand behind Frank. Like, so close he could feel his presence.

Frank nodded and took another sip, hoping he wouldn't end up puking it all up in the morning. And yeah, he could definitely taste the pineapple.

“I’m going to go talk to Bert,” Gerard said before he left, sweeping his hand along the curve of Frank’s ass as he pulled away. Frank gave a start, but tried not to make it obvious.

Mikey gave Frank a pointed look. “Don't.”

“I didn't do anything!”

“You two were basically fucking in here.”

“No we weren't!”

“You were,” Pete added.

“Thanks, Pete.” Frank glared at him.

“Anyways, there are two rules here,” Mikey cut in. “One: not in front of me. Please.”

Frank nodded. That would be easy.

“Two: you fuck him tonight, he's yours. You can’t just leave after tonight. And he's clingy as fuck.”

Frank nodded again, having already been warned. Having a boyfriend didn't sound too bad, especially if it was Gerard.

“Don't worry,” Pete said. “He's actually a great guy. Loves comics and horror movies. He's actually a massive geek.”

Mikey nodded in agreement. “He wants to  
fuck you. I can tell.”

Frank nodded. “He wasn’t exactly being very subtle about it.”

“He's not a subtle dude.”

Frank took a sip of his cup again. Whatever was in it, there was a whole lot of alcohol. A pleasant buzz started up in his veins. It gave him some courage.

“I’m going. See you guys.” And with that, Frank left the relative safety of the kitchen.

He made his way down the hall to the extensive lounge room, where the real party seemed to be. In the corner, he saw a group of people standing around, smoking what looked like weed. In the middle of the room, people were dancing, or as Frank liked to say, “having clothed sex.”

The couches, which had been pushed to the wall, were full of couples making out. There were two massive speakers blaring music, the bass throbbing in Frank’s ears. Against the walls, people leant, drinking from - not red, but black cups. Frank chuckled to himself quietly. Everyone was too wasted or stoned to notice his arrival.

Except for one guy. He broke away from his weed-smoking group of friends and approached Frank, a curious look in his eyes. 

“You’re Iero, right?” He asked.

“Yeah. What’s it to you?”

“Oh, nothing! Pete’s always going on about you,” The stranger explained. He held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Ray.”

Frank shook it. “Frank - but you already knew that, right?”

Ray gave an apologetic laugh. “Yeah…” He cleared his throat. “Pete said you played guitar?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah, I do, but I’m not all that great. Do you play?”

“Since the day he came out of the womb!” Came a voice from behind him. Frank whirled around to see none other than the alluring Gerard Way standing behind him. Like, real close. Almost touching him. Again.

Ray blushed. “Not that long-”

“You play like you have,” Gerard interjecting, positioning himself beside Frank rather than right behind him. “I tried myself, but my fingers won’t cooperate. Especially when I try to sing and play at the same time,” He added, more to Frank than Ray.

“You sing?” Frank asked.

“Yeah. I’m not, like, Mariah Carey or anything but…”

“Shut up, Gerard, you’re great,” Ray cut in.

“You shut up, I was about to go on a long and self-deprecating tangent about how I couldn't sing to work up sympathy.”

Ray rolled his eyes as Frank chuckled, because really, he could imagine Gerard doing that.

“Anyways,” Ray said to Frank. “Wanna come smoke a joint?”

Frank nodded. “Sure.”

Gerard tossed his head back. “I’m going to go find Bert.”

Ray wrinkled his nose. “Gerard, don’t-”

But Gerard was gone. Ray sighed and looked at Frank’s confused gaze. “They have a ‘thing’. Bert’s like Gerard’s rebound, or whatever.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “So he just came out of a relationship?”

Ray shook his head. “Nah. He just sleeps with guys and expects them to want to date them in the morning after a night where they were so wasted they couldn't even remember it. They just keep using him, I guess.”

“Shit, that’s sad.”

“Yeah. Anyways, follow me. Jepha always has the good shit.”

Not five minutes later, Frank was standing in the corner getting stoned. Ray had been right; the stuff was good. His limbs tingled, the lights seemed more dramatic. He began to giggle.

“What's so fucking funny?” Ray asked vaguely.

“I’m hungry, and that girl looks like she has spiders on her eyes,” He explained, pointing with a finger.

Ray followed his gaze and laughed too.

Frank looked around. He felt wild, and fucking good inside, if a little hungry. Whatever.

His gaze travelled across the room, lingering on all the hot guys and girls dancing together. And guys and guys, and girls and guys. Having clothed sex.

“Ray, man, wouldn’t sex be great?”

Ray frowned at him. “You a virgin?”

Frank shook his head. “Nah. I used to be a slut, actually.

“Used to?”

“Someone drugged me.”

The crease between Ray’s eyebrows deepened. “Dude, what?”

Frank shrugged. “It’s nothing, really.” Because he couldn’t even remember the encounter, he was so doped up. It was nothing, just a small fragment of memory that he was definitely over.

Ray shook his head, but left the subject. 

Frank spotted someone across the room. “Hey, is that Gerard?”

“Yeah, and that’s Bert,” Ray added. 

Frank frowned and focused in on the scene, realising that Gerard was trapped against the wall Bert leaning on him heavily. But Gerard did not look distressed, not at all. In fact, his head was tilted back, his jaw slack, and his eyes slitted. Frank also noted that Bert was kissing and biting his neck, hands on his ass, their bodies pressed together tightly, rocking against each other.

Frank imagine the soft gasps and whimpers coming out of Gerard’s mouth, and feeling of his body pressed against his own, those stupidly tight jeans being ripped off...him, under the captivating body of the man…

He shook his head out of its haze of lust and would have torn his gaze away had it not been for the way Gerard’s eyes lit up when they saw im staring. He grinned at Frank, teeth and all, his body still moving against Bert’s. Frank took it as a personal challenge. He wanted to be the one with Gerard, not some stupid rebound.

He stepped forward and weaved his way through the crowd, never breaking eye contact with Gerard on his way. He stepped over a fallen body.

When he made it to the two, he didn’t even think about what he would say. His drugged mind had no plan whatsoever. The fear and anxiety that usually accompanied approaching hot people seemed to have fled the scene. He didn’t give a shit.

He tapped Bert on the shoulder lightly. Bert pulled his head away from Gerard’s neck and turned around, a disgruntled look on his face as he glared at Frank.

“What do you want, shorty?”

Gerard was also staring at Frank, one eyebrow cocked. 

“Are you Bert?”

“Yeah, and who the fuck are you?”

Frank held out his hand. “Frank Iero.”

Bert stared at his hand. “What do you want?” He growled. “Can't you see I'm busy?”

Frank looked at Gerard. “Are you busy?”

Gerard grinned at him, and Frank couldn't help but feel as though he’d just passed a test of some kind.

“No, why don't you stay and chat?” He smiled serenely at Bert, who was pulling an unattractive face.

“Thanks, Gee.”

“Don't call him that,” Bert said sharply, eyes boring into Frank’s like daggers.

“Why not? It is your name for him?”

Bert looked suspicious. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

Frank shrugged. “I thought you were just the rebound.”

Bet’s jaw visibly tightened, and his glare intensified. “I know where I stand with Gerard.”

Frank shrugged nonchalantly. “Ray said you were, so…”

“Toro?”

“He kept talking about his guitar.”

Bert started glaring at Gerard. “What did you tell him?”

“Frank? Nothing,” Gerard said innocently.

Bert rolled his eyes. “No, you idiot, Toro.”

“Oh!” Gerard’s eyebrows drew together. “I told him the truth.”

Bert sighed in an annoyed way and raised both his hands. “Fine. I see how it is.” He stalked off, probably on the prowl for someone else to have sex with.

“Thanks, Frankie,” Gerard said sweetly once he was out of earshot. “He tasted like beer. It was gross.”

“You know, I probably wouldn’t have done that if I weren’t high,” Frank said quietly. “Do you mind the taste of cannabis?”

Gerard smiled again, only this time it was more suggestive. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t be acting like this if I weren’t - mmph.” Frank’s words were muffled by the press of Gerard’s lips against his own. His hands immediately flew to his hips, where he could feel the rough strips of lace underneath his fingers. Gerard’s hands cupped his face, biting Frank’s bottom lip in his own before pulling back.

“-High,” Frank finished, slightly dazed.

Gerard giggled. “You taste good. Wanna fuck?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

Gerard grabbed his hand and led him through everyone. Frank trailed after him, checking out his ass, which looked exceptional in his jeans. Gerard looked back at him questionally.

“Your ass looks so good in those jeans, babe,” He said, which was definitely the weed talking, because sober Frank would have never let those words slip out of his mouth.

Gerard blushed and continued walking, only this time there was more of a swing to his hips; his walk was more of a sultry strut.

Frank leaned forward again. “You would look great in stilettos, too.”

The sharp intake of breath he heard definitely wasn’t his imagination.

“I would dress you up. God, you’d look like such a slut,” He continued, because Gerard was now flushed and his breath was coming in heavier.

“I-in here,” He said, walking down the steps to the basement and opening the door. “No one comes down here.”

Frank nodded, following him into the room. “This your room?”

Gerard nodded as Frank took in the posters on the wall, the scattered pencils on the floor and the beat up acoustic guitar in the corner. “Nice,” He commented. Gerard cleared his throat, lying on the bed.

“So, you gonna fuck me?”

Frank turned around and smiled at him in what he hoped was a flirtatious manner. “Been waiting all night, sweetie.”

He practically launched himself on top of Gerard, smashing their lips together messily. Hands crawled all over his body - through his hair, around his hips, his ass, his sides. Gerard’s body fit snugly against his own, crotch resting tightly against Frank’s thigh. Then Gerard flipped them over, and Frank was on the bottom, which he was actually okay with. They panted into each other’s mouths, the air in the room heating up along with their bodies.

Gerard sat up and started to rock his hips, looking down at Frank, who watched him through half lidded eyes as the taller man grinded his ass down onto Frank’s cock. Frank moaned and grabbed his hips, hard, letting his fingers dig in. Gerard tossed his head back and let out a whoosh of air at the feeling.

“That’s it, moan for me, whore,” Frank encouraged him, reaching up and putting his hand right against Gerard’s cock through his jeans. Gerard smiled and gasp again, pushing his hips down even harder. Frank reached around and grabbed at his ass, feeling the squishy flesh beneath his hands. Unconsciously, Gerard pushed back into his touch. 

“Such a nice ass,” Frank muttered. “On your hands and knees, sweetheart.”

Gerard complied, rolling off Frank and kneeling. Frank pushed his head down roughly, making Gerard cry out. Frank immediately took his hands away. “Shit, was that too much?”

Gerard shook his head. “Keep going, fuck.”

Frank nodded, on his knees behind Gerard. His gazed immediately fixated on Gerard’s ass, which looked absolutely amazing in his jeans. It was seriously perfect - round and full and soft and probably really tight. Frank just wanted to fucking eat him out.

He pushed Gerard’s shirt over his head and Gerard took his cue and removed it. He pressed his crotch right up against Gerard’s ass and draped himself over his back, leaning right into his ear. He whispered, “I fuckin’ love your ass. It’s so perfect.”

He heard the click in Gerard’s throat as he swallowed. “Well,” He started, a little shakily, “You’re pretty well-endowed too.”

Frank pushed his hips forward and Gerard made a quiet noise that sent waves of heat running down Frank’s stomach. He straightened back up and reached around Gerard to undo his belt buckle. He rolled Gerard over and removed his pants forcefully. Gerard’s breath was coming in pants, his hair plastered to his forehead as he wriggled out of his clothes. Frank stared in awe, wondering vaguely how he’d gotten so lucky. Gerard’s eyelashes were long and fluttering, and he felt the sudden urge to reach up and kiss him gently.

Gerard blinked and tugged at his pants. “You too,” He breathed.

Frank swallowed and nodded, wrestling his pants off. They were tight, but not as tight as Gerard’s had been. Gerard got back on his hands and knees and pushed his ass back, begging for more. The room was quiet save for their panting and the rustle of the bedsheets mingling with the pounding of the bass above them. The quiet was then disrupted by the crinkling of foil as Frank opened the condom that had been in his pocket.

“You need prep?” He asked.

“No,” Gerard responded.

“Of course not.” This was accompanied by a sharp slap to his ass. “Whore.”

Gerard’s breathing picked up. Frank raised an eyebrow. “You liked that, huh?”

Gerard nodded, and Frank slapped him again. “I’m going to fuck your tight ass now, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Frank put the condom on. “Lube?”

“Nightstand.”

Frank reached over and fumbled for a second before returning to his position behind Gerard with the lube. He was careful to use more than enough; after all, he hadn’t stretched Gerard.

He pushed in slowly, revelling in the groaning noises Gerard was making. His whole body was over sensitised,every rustle of the sheets so loud to him and every gaps of Gerard’s was like a tell to his ears. He loved every second of it.

“So tight, babe,” Frank groaned.

“I - just, wait,” Gerard gasped. So Frank did wait, deep inside him, rearing to go, but waiting nonetheless.

Gerard collapsed onto his elbows. “Okay,” He panted, pushing back against Frank, who revelled in the right feeling around his cock. His hips slowly started to move, pushing into Gerard gently before picking up the pace.

“Harder,” Gerard gritted out. “Oh god, please.”

Frank complied, picking up the pace, groaning underneath his breath. “Needy little bitch.”

Gerard moaned, his hand moving to wrap itself around his own cock, but Frank got there first, knocking it away. Gerard groaned loudly and buried his face in his pillow. 

Frank slammed into him particularly hardly, simultaneously grabbing his hair from behind and lifting his head slightly. “Let me hear you.”

Gerard nodded weakly, the volume of his voice escalating as Frank repeatedly hit his prostate. “Fuck! Oh god, Frank!” He cried out, probably far too loud but neither of them cared at all.

Gerard's moans really turned Frank on. His pale skin, shining with a lift layer of sweat glistened, and to Frank, it was all because of him. He was the one pleasuring this beautiful man. He was so lucky. 

“Frank, please,” Gerard begged. “Touch me.”

“Just because you asked, you’re coming untouched,” Frank said breathlessly, loving the way he could just order Gerard around.

Gerard groaned and twisted his neck around, eyes searching for Frank’s. Pleading. So wide and desperate. The image brought Frank over the edge.

He released into the condom, groaning quietly, his whole body tended. Gerard writhed beneath him, still moaning, still needing his release.

“Frankie...please, I gotta come,” He pleaded. Frank pulled out, wincing at his over sensitive dick, and considered it. For one, seeing Gerard fall apart underneath him would be a great thing. 

“On your back,” He commanded, and Gerard obeyed immediately.

He positioned himself between Gerard’s legs, right up close to his throbbing and engorged cock. The veins stood out. He licked his lips.

Gerard whimpered as he breathed out, twitching slightly. He was muttering to himself, “please, please,” over and over again like a mantra in a high-pitched voice.

Frank pushed himself forward, lifting Gerard’s legs over his shoulders, and burying his face between his legs. He pressed his tongue, flat, up against Gerard’s hole. Gerard whimpered and thrust his hips up, pushing himself against Frank’s face. 

Frank loved this - the complete envelopment of his face musky scent, the warmth and softness. Particularly Gerard, as his chub just made him all the more comfortable. He wrapped one hand around Gerard’s hard cock and began to jerk him off, fast and tight. He tensed his tongue and rimmed him earnestly, feeling the spit run down his chin.

Gerard was moaning up above him, chest rising and falling, writhing, twisting his nipples in his hands like the pain heightened the pleasure. He was close, incredibly close to falling off the edge.

When he did, his whole body went still, shuddered once or twice, and then collapsed as if all the tension had leaked out of him.

Frank extracted his face from between his legs and laid down next to Gerard, who was in the land of post-coital bliss. Frank let himself relax next to him, and before he knew it's, he had passed out as well.

~

“You’re still here.”

That was the first thing he heard that morning, and it came from the foul smelling mouth of Gerard Way in an almost doubtful tone.

Frank cracked one eye open, and took in the sight that beheld him. Gerard's was propped up on one elbow and staring at him intensely.

“I didn't have anywhere else to go,” Frank mumbled blearily, because Gerard was right in the direction of the window where the sun was streaming through and really, could it not.

 

“Everyone does,” Gerard said simply.

“Nah,” Frank disagreed. “I wouldn't.”

Gerard looked at him, still unbelieving. “You’re not actually going to ditch me now?”

Frank frowned. “What kind of asshole do you think I am?” He yawned. “I need coffee.

“You ate my asshole,” Gerard added, completely unnecessarily because Frank, surprisingly, remembered everything from the night before. Also, it wasn't helping with his whole morning wood situation.

Frank shrugged. “Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

Gerard giggled, and Frank decided that he liked that giggle. He would keep it.


End file.
